The War At Home
by Gift of the Dragons
Summary: The magical world has been exposed, and humanity hasn't taken well towards the discovery... End of episode 7 and onwards has never occurred. Read at your own risk. Occasional character death.
1. Two Worlds, One War

Disclaimer: I do not own American Dragon: Jake Long, or Charles Dickens's _A Tale of Two Cities.  
_Author's Note: Rated for a reason! Not for the faint of heart. Read Warning please. **Warning: Contains blood, dead people, gore, and a dragon on a flagpole. Do not read if you can't handle it.**_  
_

Author's Note: Not for the faint of heart! Wow, I am on a roll here, writing these darker stories…. Also, just to clear this up, the ending of 'Professor Rotwood's Thesis' never occurred. Trixie and Spud never learned about Jake being a dragon, and, well, just read. It'll be gradually explained.

'_It was the best of times, it was the worst of times…'_ I shook my head. This was not the best of times, only the worst. _'…it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness…'_ Wisdom could be argued. Foolishness was something without doubt. _'…it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity…' _Both would fit here, in today's state. _'…it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness…' _Light had dispersed. Darkness now reigned here. _'…it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair…'_ Despair indeed. Hope was gone, having fled for warmer climates._ '…we had everything before us, we had nothing before us…'_ I nodded; both of these were true, in greater measures than anyone would hope for. Hope. _'…we were all going direct to heaven, we were all going direct in the other way…'_ I doubted that almost anyone was going to heaven, not in a time like this, not with what people were getting away with. _'… - in short, the period so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only.'_ For good or evil, this age was being received. And what it brought was darkness and blood.

I walked to school, the sky a reddish orange, rather than its usual blue. It seemed to be bleeding, a sort of cry for what the world has come to. Trust was hard to find; neighbor fought neighbor, brother turned against brother, father plotted against son. That was how it could be best described. People were turning on one another, turning New York into a battleground. The whole world was degrading into a battleground, with Rotwood to blame for it all. I couldn't even trust my best friends; how would they react to the truth? What about Dad? I shook my head. Thinking like that would only get me into trouble. Acting upon those thoughts would make the rest of my short existence a living nightmare.

It would have been better if it never happened, if I didn't turn to Rotwood and his reward money, to get a new vase. Why, why? I allowed myself to get captured (by my best friends, no less) and given to Rotwood for that stupid vase! Well, actually the money _for _the vase, but still.

_I gave up hope and slumped my shoulders. I slid against the back of the cage. That's what it was now; a steel trap, and I was the animal trapped inside. I could hear Rotwood's voice, slightly muffled from the thick metal. He seemed to be talking to a group of people. Scientists, probably, trying to prove that he wasn't crazy. I lifted my wings and let them fall, creating a small draft. Too bad he wasn't._

_I narrowed my eyes. Perhaps I could barge through the door, and fly out of there. But that would depend on Rotwood opening the door. He may be an idiot when it comes to magical creatures, but I doubted that even _he _was that stupid. I sighed and perked my ears as Rotwood became clearer. The back of his head filled the space between the bars, so that I could only see his hair. I tensed myself, ready to spring out of here as soon as possible._

_An official sounding voice said "Really?" He sounded bored, like he wanted to get away and do some real work. "Then open the door and let us see."_

_Rotwood's accent filtered through the bars, muffled slightly by his head. "I can't do that; he might escape."_

"_Then let us see," the voice said. I cot an idea; I let myself fall swiftly but silently to the floor, acting like I was dead. Or a parade float. "All I see is some papier-mâché float," the bored voice said._

"_No, no!" Rotwood cried. "I can prove it to you-" the door creaked open and I sprang to action. I dove for the door, landing among the stunned scientists. I then rocketed out of there, heading for Rotwood's garage. I couldn't undo the damage I just caused, but I could destroy the pictures and all of the other evidence I gave to Rotwood. "I told you!" said teacher shrieked. _

That day was a mistake. I managed to destroy the evidence, but I caused an all out war between the human world and the magical world. It was, and still is, every dragon's nightmare. People and creatures were fighting each other, killing each other. Mom had to drive Hayley to school everyday so she wouldn't see the violence on the streets. Gramps, while he wouldn't say so, was disappointed in me. He thought I could do better than this, and I had let him down. Fu Dog would try to console me occasionally, telling me that it hadn't truly been my fault. Hayley acted as though nothing had really changed, but she was scared too. Mom was scared, but let it show. Dad was confused; he knew nothing of the magical world before this, and wasn't violent or hateful by nature. So he was confused more than anything by what the world had come to.

A glance down an alleyway afforded me with a gruesome sight. Someone had nailed up a disemboweled leprechaun to a wall. It was too gruesome to describe, but before I turned away, I read the scrawled message left in the leprechaun's blood. It read: _Get out of here you freaks!_

I walked away, and despite the blood, I found myself suppressing a grin, which grew into a chuckle. That grew into laughter, and progressively harder to control. I wasn't sure if I was losing my mind; why would I be laughing at such a thing? Or keeping myself from doing so, at least. Then it hit me: the funny (not) thing about it was that magical creatures existed before humans. They long outdated humans, by ten-thousand years, if I remembered correctly.

The humans were trying to remove that that existed first; that was what was funny. Well, what it quickly escalated to wasn't funny, and the thought deflated the laughter that was struggling to break free. I grew sober, and what I saw next made my blood grow cold.

Hanging from the school flagpole was a dragon skin. Whoever had done the skinning hadn't washed the skin. It still looked warm, as blood freely dripped off the carcass. There was a large rip down the stomach, but since it was only the skin, the unfortunates that saw it weren't afforded a view of a dragon's anatomy. I found a pain inside of me, and I knew why.

The dragons were meant to keep peace, before the war. They made sure that the magical community wasn't ripping itself apart at the hinges, being police, peacekeepers, and judges, all in one. They were meant to keep the magical world secret (and look at what I did.) Even now, those that were able to were hiding as many of the magical community as possible. They never attacked the humans, and avoided confrontation, except with the Huntsclan.

In fact, most dragons were leaving to Draco Island, trying to wait the war out. I hadn't gone, nor Mom or Hayley or Gramps. Mom, despite not being able to turn into a dragon, could have left. But she didn't; she wouldn't leave Dad. Hayley could have gone. But she wouldn't leave her family. Gramps could have gone. But he wouldn't leave his daughter or grand-kids, no matter how disappointed he was in me. I could have left. But this war was my fault, my mess. And I was going to clean it up as best as I could.


	2. Ruminations

Disclaimer: I do not own American Dragon: Jake Long, and I am not Buddha.

Author's Note: First: I AM NOT BUDDHA! I'M NOT DEAD! Second, I really have to thank tuxer, Dragon Lover and Lone Wolf102 for reviewing and asking for an update. To Dragon Lover: Rotwood isn't greedy or anything. He just wants, I don't know, reassurance that he isn't crazy. He does respect magical creatures, but not everyone does. Rotwood is going to be smarter about magical creatures in this story, seeing as how he has had multiple opportunities to… study them up close. So, here it is; chapter 2.

I gritted my teeth and clenched my hands. I couldn't help myself; every fiber in my being made me want to charge at him and knock his face in. This is probably why shrinks and therapists always encourage self-control. So you don't go and get yourself into trouble. Well, in the last few weeks, I had to practice some serious self-control, or else I would put everyone, my _entire_ _family_ at risk. Mom and dad, they weren't dragons. Mom was descended from them, but she didn't have any of their abilities.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out a stress ball. I found the little thing so useful on days like these. None of the teachers minded either. Everything had become so stressful lately that almost everyone had one, squeezing it instead of letting it go on other people. So they wouldn't make a mistake and trip up everything. I squeezed the orange starfish, stalking past Rotwood. He was trying to figure out the best way to pull down the dragon skin from the top of the flag pole. I almost let a deep growl out when I passed him, but I managed to choke it back in. Losing my cool wouldn't help anyone.

Still, my blood boiled with anger and I hardly noticed that everyone stayed away from me in school. Even Brad, the school bully, cowered when I walked by. Why, I didn't care. When I came to my locker, I brought my hand up to spin the dial, and saw why no one would come near me. I was holding the starfish stress ball in my hand, and I had to force my fingers apart so I could get a better look at it. The thing had been ripped in half, and I hadn't noticed. I had actually tried to rip one in half a few years ago, but they're pretty tough. I swallowed; I was afraid I might have given myself away. I decided not to dwell on it too ling and unlocked my locker, exchanging my books in my bag with those in my locker for the beginning of school.

Rotwood shouldered the door open, drawing everyone's gazes to the door. I had a sinking feeling in my stomach, so I was rather sure he had gotten that dragon skin down, either by himself or with the aid of a student. It looked like he had a rug under his arm, but was dripping. I felt sickened by this man, by this _world_. World War II was _nothing _compared to this.

"This, my students, is proof of a dragon," Rotwood began with a flourish.

He waved the rug out like a bed sheet and several students made noises of disgust. It was the dragon skin, and I got a better look of it than I wanted. The scales were a light green, like the color of grass in May, and rather small. So the dragon wasn't very old, maybe eight years old. I felt my eyes tear up slightly. That's how old Hayley is.

"Dragons are the most powerful creatures of all, generally regarded to be protectors of the magical world. All dragons posses a rare form of magic, one that has aided them in hiding from humans for many years," Rotwood drawled. He lay the skin down on his desk, ignoring the blood staining the papers and wood. "They can shape shift themselves into humans." There was a mixed outcry at those words, and I felt, rather than saw, Spud raise his hand. "Yes, Mr. Spudinski?"

"Well," Spud said, lowering his hand so he could rub his neck, "if dragons can become humans, doesn't hat mean they are humans?"

The class became quiet, waiting to hear Rotwood's answer. Rotwood himself seemed to realize that his answer was important. I perked my head up; depending on Rotwood said, it could turn the tides on this war. He could single-handedly stop it, f he said the right thing. I crossed my fingers and pleaded that he would say that dragons were humans. _'If he does,'_ I internally pleaded, _'I will do my homework _and_ study for the rest of the year, no, my entire _life_ with no complaints.'_

"No," he bluntly said. "Dragons can make themselves appear to be human. This is only a part of their magic, and does not truly make them human."

I felt myself go from elated and hopeful to disappointed to furious in seconds. I barely stopped myself from leaping over my desk and throttling the man. I took a deep breath instead and squished what was left of my starfish. It didn't work as well since the foam was ripped, but it was better than breaking my pencil.

"Since I have a dragon skin, thanks to an anonymous donator who tied it to the school flagpole, today's lesson will be on dragons." Rotwood pulled down a sheet above the whiteboard. The sheet showed the anatomical makeup of an average dragon. I shivered when I saw the pictures; that was a closer look than I wanted. "This lesson will take a week's time to cover, and will be split into sections. Here are your papers."

Rotwood handed out worksheets and notes out to the class. After everyone was settled, he went into a lecture on a dragon's skeleton. I skimmed the notes and was baffled. How did Rotwood get so much information on dragons? Before, he thought their claws glowed in the dark and the scales smelled of lavender. What happened to that clueless teacher?

"You may now work on chapter one in your worksheets. Any work that is not finished in class will be homework, and is due tomorrow. You may all work in pairs or in groups of three."

While Rotwood distracted himself with his new find, I talked with Trixie and Spud about the war. Before I allowed myself to get too engrossed, I took a last glance at Rotwood. He was sitting in his seat, looking down at the dragon hide. One hand was in his pal, with his elbow on the desk. If that was anyone but Rotwood, I would have said they looked sad. Regretful, even. I tuned back into what Trixie was saying.

"I think it's pointless," Trixie lamented. "I mean, it's not like they're killing everyone or anything, right?" I nodded in agreement while Spud pored over the paper. "Yo Spud, what do you think?"

"'An insincere and evil friend is to be more feared than a wild beast; a wild beast may wound your body, but an evil friend will wound your mind.'" Spud saw us looking at him.

"What? Have you been watching too much TV again?" I asked.

"No. It just means that a bad friend will hurt you in more lasting ways than an animal will."

I felt sheepish when I heard that. Was I being an evil friend? I was hiding a pretty big secret from my two best friends. But if I told them, I could put my family in danger. Which was more important; family, or friends?

Trixie seemed to notice and shook me out of my pity party. "Jakie, is there something wrong?" I shook my head slowly, getting my thoughts together.

"No, I'm okay." My voice was slightly thick, so I swallowed and said "I'm going to get started on this. I can't afford another detention; my mom said she'd ground me for a month if I get another F or a detention."

Spud didn't look convinced, but he did look concerned. He didn't say anything except some consoling words to Trixie, convincing her to relax. I would thank him later; right now, I needed to figure out what I was. Was I a good friend or an evil one; was I a human or a dragon? Or was I something in between, neither one nor the other, always stuck at the boundaries? I could feel that these questions were more important than ever. So, they begged to be answered; what am I?


	3. Brock and Batteries

Disclaimer: I do not own American Dragon: Jake Long and I am not Helen Keller.

Author's Note: I plan on bringing some more gore and such into this story, either this chapter or next. Also, every chapter is going to have some sort of quote pertaining to a certain theme; the speaker is listed above (you see it?) but you'll have to find the quote on your own.

There was a knock on the door and I was startled out of my thoughts. Rotwood stood, confusion flitting across his face before a mask of calm slid over it. He strode over to the door and opened it, and a rare smile graced his face. He greeted the guest warmly while I watched, suspicious. If it was someone he knew _and_ liked, it was either his mother or someone that shared his passion for magical creatures. I hoped it was his mother, but as usual, my luck was nonexistent.

An older man wearing a sandy suit with brown patches on the elbows was shaking hands with Rotwood. His hair was gray and silver, so I guess he was about sixty, sixty-five years old. His face was heavily lined, so that supported his age. Rotwood seemed to greatly respect him and quickly went from shaking hands with the man to letting him into the classroom. He noticed everyone watching the two men rather than working.

"Get back to work everyone," he called.

I pretended to go back to my work, scribbling down answers in my packet. I eavesdropped on Rotwood and his friend, who I learned was called Professor Brock. He was talking animatedly, gesturing wildly to Rotwood. Rotwood became even more excited, if that was possible.

I overheard some words, and they did nothing to improve my mood. The fragments were disjointed, but I figured out pretty quickly that Brock, who was the older man, had found a serum of some sort that forced one to show their true form. I heavily swallowed; this was bad, bad times a million. No, infinity. Hayley, Gramps and I had only managed anonymity because our magic allowed us to appear human when we chose to. But this disabled our magic.

"Are you sure you're okay Jake? Hello, anybody home?" I felt two hard raps on my skull and I rubbed it, glaring at Trixie. "Are you sick or something? You're shaking pretty badly," she observed.

I looked down at my hands; they were shaking from anxiety, not from sickness. I gripped the edge of my desk, determined to stop myself.

"Yeah," I lied. "I'm fine. I can't stop thinking about getting grounded, that's all." Trixie narrowed her eyes slightly, and I felt myself tensing for a fight, or at least an accusation. Her eyes softened slightly and she patted my shoulder, confusing me.

"Just relax, alright? We won't be able to meet up today at the skate park. Spud's dog ate another box of batteries, and his parents are taking it to the vet. They asked me to watch him, but said that he can't go out because he _let_ the dog eat the batteries," she explained with a glare.

"I didn't know Jimmy was going to eat the batteries!" Spud complained.

"Just like you didn't know he was going to eat the slippers? Or the bottles of nail polish? Or the twenty markers?"

Spud looked away sheepishly and I felt myself crack a grin. How his dog ate twenty markers, I wouldn't know. Or dare to ask, unless I wanted Trixie to go on a tirade. I wouldn't wish that on anyone, except maybe the Huntsclan.

"Why would his parents want you to watch him? They don't really think Spud's going to eat batteries, do they?"

"No," Spud sulked. "They want Trixie there so that I remember not to do anything stupid."

I took a look at my homework, which was finished, as the bell rang. The sound cut through the room as everyone started packing up and chattering over the sound-splitting noise. I shoved my papers into my bag and glanced at Rotwood and Brock. They seemed to be in a heated discussion, quiet only because students were in the room. Whatever it was, it made Rotwood go from admiration to disgust, which he didn't bother to hide. I ran out to the hall before either one noticed I had seen them.

I tapped the pencil against my chin, slumping down in my seat. Tests in Social Studies were always grueling, but this one was particularly horrid. The teacher had given the class a pop quiz on recent historical figures, which I thought was rather contradictory. What are those things called? An oxymoron, or was it an allegory? I shook myself out of these thoughts and focused on the test.

'Who is credited with the quote "Avoiding danger is no safer in the long run than outright exposure."?' I fiddled with my pencil before rubbing my face. I wasn't familiar with quotes, and I had never seen this quote or something like it. What sort of test was I taking? I looked again at the question and felt a sharp pain in my chest. It was another cruel reminder by fate of my secret, but I was pretty sure that avoiding danger here was better than telling and/or showing everyone I was a dragon.

Static over the speakers startled me, making me almost fall out of my seat. I picked myself up, blushing slightly but glad no one had noticed. The announcement had their undivided attention. There was some more static, like someone was crinkling paper on the other end before speaking.

"All students, faculty and staff go to the auditorium for a meeting," the voice said before being replaced with more static. I stood along with the rest of the class, mind racing. I had an uncomfortable feeling that whatever was going on involved Brock's and Rotwood's argument.

The halls were filled with student's chatter, kept in check by the teachers. The walk was short to the auditorium, where the noise was louder but the teachers more numerous. I picked a seat in the front row near the stage. I was thinking so hard, trying to guess what was going on, that I didn't notice Trixie and Spud behind me until Spud clapped me on the back.

"Hey Jake, what'cha thinking about?"

"Huh?" I looked up at my friends, confused.

"Spud asked what you were thinking about," Trixie said.

"You've seemed off lately," Spud said in an offhanded way. I looked at Spud; I must have really been off if he noticed. Spud didn't exactly fit into the 'normal' department. "Have you been thinking about something?"

"Yeah," I found myself agreeing. "Everyone's been fighting, but I don't see why." I shut my mouth and bit my tongue. I had been explicitly warned by Gramps not to talk about the war, and I was doing it anyway. "Sorry," I muttered. "It's been bugging me lately."

Trixie and Spud both looked like they wanted to answer but were cut off by someone on stage. The overhead lights had dimmed and the stage lights brightened, illuminating the stage. Several faculty members stood on top. Rotwood and Brock were standing up there, the latter more comfortable with the limelight than the former.

Brock brought his hands up, gaining everyone's attention, the chatter dwindling to nothing. The man cleared his throat before speaking.

"As you all know, a great secret has been revealed; there are magical creatures living with humans today. Initial reactions have been horrendous, to say the least," Brock said with a small chuckle. "As a collaborative effort by the professors of Fumshteiken University and of the faculty and staff of your school, all students will participate in the study of these magical creatures. Firstly, every student will be tested, to see if they are magical creatures or have magical blood. Those who are not will study those who are, if there are any such creatures. Those who are will be kept under surveillance, as all we want to do is learn about the magical community."

Today had gone from bad to worse. Not only had I revealed the magical community, but now I was going to be forced to reveal my family to have ties with them. And when Hayley and Gramps are exposed, who knows what's going to happen. I gripped the edges of the seat, loosing feeling in my fingers. I closed my eyes in a vain attempt to make all of this go away.


	4. Introductions

Disclaimer: I do not own American Dragon: Jake Long and I am not Theodore Roosevelt.

Author's Note: No gore yet. I'm getting there soon enough. I would have uploaded this yesterday, but I wanted to do some editing.

To tuxer: I haven't really thought that out. Yeah, Rose may make an appearance, but beyond this chapter, anything and everything is possible.

This explanation is going be a little long. The war is more or less an execution of sorts. Think of the Salem Witch Trials, which is a really good example of what's going on, except without the trials; they skip straight to the execution. And about the government, they don't really have a part in this. It's more or less confusion/chaos up there, which is why all of this is getting away without any consequences. Plus, with the exception of 'Brockium', there is no way to tell a magical creature from a human. Unless they're like, you know, Veronica or the Gorgons. Really, any magical creature that can disguise itself (magic or otherwise) is safe, unless people decide they don't like them or become suspicious.

I felt a hand on my arm, lifting me up to my feet. I stood along with the rest of the students, and saw my best friends as fearful as I was. I felt better for a moment, knowing that I wasn't the only one that was scared. But I was probably the only one with a secret to hide. Some people were talking, but it was subdued, like at a funeral when everyone had come to pay their respects to the deceased.

"Students will be called during the next few days to be tested," Brock called out. The tension in the room eased, if only slightly. "Will the first five students please report to the nurse's office: Trixie Carter, Courtney McArthur, Brad Morton, Jasmine Nolan and Danika Hunnicutt. Thank you and please return to your classes."

"So, what'd they do?" I asked.

After twenty, maybe thirty minutes, Trixie came back during lunch. She seemed completely unharmed, although somewhat shaken up.

"That old guy, he said his name was Professor Brock. He asked me to dump something on myself; it looked like water. Claimed it was Brockium, and it would force a magical creature into its true form. So, I poured it on myself, and it felt like ice. I got really cold, started sneezing, and threw up after a few minutes, but nothing else happened. Brock said I was fine, the vomiting was a slight side effect, the same kind people sometimes get from medicine. He said I'd be fine and to go back to class." Trixie smirked here, but the effect was ruined by her shuddering. "Still cold," she explained. "After he told me I could leave, I thought I could go walk around the school for a little bit. It's not like they were expecting me back."  
"You find anything?" Spud seemed better, having forgotten the incident with his dog and the batteries.

"Yeah. The guy has a whole truckload of that Brockium stuff. It's parked outside the school's kitchen."

This was a good thing to know. Perhaps I could sneak here later tonight and destroy it, dump it down into the sewers. No, what if there were people around? I'd get caught, and even if I didn't, they'd be out looking for me. Wait, I could try contaminating it! What if it had bad side effects when Brock uses it? Or maybe I could burn it with fire. I thought about it for a moment, and decided it was the best idea. Hopefully the stuff isn't volatile. I'd have a difficult explaining that one to Gramps.

I was about to comment on the school's lunch, which was fish sticks, but was interrupted by a scream. It cut straight through the lunch room, and everyone scrambled to see what happened. Trixie, Spud and I were more wary, but still curious, so we hung back, still close enough to see.

One of the students was a Nix. Way to go, Brock. She was humanoid from the waist up. Her skin was a forest green and scaly, resembling a snake's; her hands ended in claws, the scales a lighter olive green, resembling dress gloves; her lips were black, the teeth became fangs, and her eyes were a pure, unbroken, glowing red. Her ears had become pointed as well as her hair, giving her a slightly elfin look. She had a pair of dark wings, which were flapping as she searched the crowd of faces. Rather than legs, she had a snake's tail with a plated underbelly that resembled a dragon's. The plates were the same shade of green as her hands.

As a whole, the crowd backed away from the Nix, just as she seemed to find what she was looking for. She lunged at a student, grasping his shoulders with her claws. The boy, whose name I didn't know, seemed paralyzed by her touch or by fear. The screaming started as over one hundred students stampeded out of the hall, like on the last day of school.

The Nix seemed to falter for a moment, noticing the departure of her audience. She backed away from the boy, if you could call it that. Her tail turned in on itself as she moved, so she was moving on the top of the tail rather than the bottom. Her eyes became wide as she lifted her hands to her temples, like she was having a nightmare. There was something like a wind surrounding the Nix, and the light behind her disappeared. It looked like she was standing against a backdrop of the night sky, stars speckled across its surface. Everything seemed to recede into itself as the girl transformed into her human form.

She looked Indian, with her tanned skin, thin eyebrows and long black hair. She had a small mole just below her left eye. The girl looked stunned for a moment, looking between me and the boy. She brushed off her clothes and held out a hand.

"My name is Jasmine," she said.

I looked behind me; Trixie and Spud were gone, either pulled out by the crowd or they had run out by themselves. I shook her hand, noting that she smelled faintly of snakes. She was wearing a purple dress, the collar resembling a turtleneck sweater. A purple belt hung at her hips, and was being clasped by her free hand. The dress, if it could be called that, had long sleeves that went down to her wrists. On her feet were long white boots with a small heel. Se shook the other boy's hand and looked at us with a twinkle in her eye.

"Why didn't you run?" I wasn't sure if she was asking me or the other boy.

"Well, you were holding me. Besides, people like us have to stick together," the boy answered.

I started slightly at that. How did he know I was a dragon? The boy had shoulder length red hair and darker eyes. He seemed to be wearing an open suit with a black undershirt. He caught my eye and waved a hand.

"Hello? Anybody home in there?" He snapped his fingers in front of my face, so I knocked them away. "Either you're an idiot or you have a secret to hide."

"Hey, I'm-"

"Hiding a secret," finishing my sentence for me. "So what are you? A Troll?"

I scoffed at him before looking around. I didn't see anyone, but I couldn't be too careful. I looked in the nearest classroom, which was empty. Perfect. I pulled the two of them inside before speaking.

"Before I say or do anything, what and who are you?" I asked, pointing at the redhead.

"I," he said with a flourish, "am a wizard. Nigel Thrall, at your service." He smirked at me, puffing out his chest to make himself seem more appealing.

"Are you trying to flirt with me?" Jasmine asked with a grin on her face.

"I no-"

"And what about you?" Jasmine asked, wheeling around to face me.

"Jake Long, the American Dragon." For the first time, I felt slightly ashamed to say 'American Dragon'. I expected to be yelled at, or even turned in by these two, but Jasmine nodded in understanding while Nigel shook his head in exasperation.

"I'm going to need proof. I don't accept things without proof. And before you ask me to prove myself, I have one thing to say." He held up a finger. "Steak and kidney pie, make this idiot fly." I was lifted up into the air and fell back down. Nigel frowned before muttering "That should have lasted longer."

I shook my head and growled at Nigel. "You want to play dirty? I can play dirty. Dragon up!" I became a dragon and tackled the wizard to the ground. I stood back up and changed back to my human self. I glanced out the door, quickly confirming there was no one in the hall; if anyone saw us in here, we would be in a heap of trouble. Nigel got himself back up, but surprisingly, he was grinning.

"Well, since we can all trust each other, how about we figure out a way to get rid of that medicine?"

"Don't hit at all of it is honorably possible to avoid hitting; but never hit soft," I answered. Nigel frowned, but Jasmine seemed to understand.

"You're saying that, if we have to do this, we do it good and right?"

"Something like that."

Author's Note: I am accepting ideas! I have had no goal in mind with this story, and am asking for any suggestions you people may have! So, if anyone wants a certain thing to happen, I'll try to write it in. Character deaths may be accepted. I'm actually considering one now, and it will bring in a lot of gore and fighting…


	5. Snap Decision

Disclaimer: I do not own American Dragon: Jake Long and I am not Christopher Eccleston.

Author's Note: Since Rose does appear in this chapter, I'm trying to make it sound like Jake is describing her, since this is his POV. Sorry it sounds a little funny, but I don't do romance so well. Onwards!

The door opened and two people walked in. It was Brock and Rotwood, and they seemed to be arguing with each other again. The two of them didn't seem to see us, and we backed away, moving to the door.

"You're doing this for all the wrong reasons!" Rotwood argued, his voice rising into a near shout. "They should be respected not shut up into cages!"

"Like what you did with the dragon?" Brock retorted. I bit my lip in embarrassment at this. Jasmine pulled me back a step, reaching out with her other hand for the door handle. "You three, what are you doing in here?" I winced; Brock saw us, and would likely recognize Jasmine.

"They're just student Brock. Let them go," Rotwood ordered, somewhat weary but not ready to give up the argument.

"No, the girl looks familiar. What's your name?" Brock asked. Jasmine tensed, unsure if she should answer or run. Rotwood took care of it for her.

"Leave the girl alone. Let her go, we still aren't finished talking."

Brock turned to glare at Rotwood, maybe insult him as well. Jasmine's grip on my shoulder tightened as she flung the door open and ran out into the hall, dragging me out with her. I barely managed to grab Nigel's wrist as Jasmine ran out, and he kicked the door shut as he passed through. Brock ran into the door, and I felt myself torn between laughing and insulting him or wincing. I did neither, instead leading the three of us through the halls. I heard the door being wrenched open behind us, and either Brock yelling at us or Rotwood yelling at Brock.

I glanced at the classroom doors as we passed, trying to figure out where we were. I saw Rose step out of the nurse's office as we passed, and I gave her a quick wave as the three of us rushed past. I caught the confusion on her face –even then she was beautiful– and saw Brock running down the hall, a cell phone in hand. I laid on the speed, forcing Jasmine and Nigel to run faster.

Finally, the main doors! We would be out of this place and could escape. Better yet, the place seemed to be empty. With no one around, except Brock, I could transform and fly us away from this place. Nigel could use his spell to fly himself, hopefully. I doubted I could carry two people at once. I shoved the doors open with a football tackle. Yes, a quick look showed there were hardly any people. I ran around the side of the building, letting go of the two teens.

"Dragon up," I whispered. I didn't want Brock to find me or the others. "Nigel, can you use your spell to make yourself fly?" He nodded and whispered the spell. "Jasmine, I'm going to have to carry you. Is that alright?" She nodded and I took her in my arms, carrying her bridal style. Nigel floated into the air, having finished his spell.

"Where are we going?" the wizard asked.

"To my grandfather's shop," I cryptically answered. Okay, maybe not. I took to the air as the doors opened, with Brock's voice following. "Quick, hide yourself. He'll know you're you, but not who I am."

Nigel didn't seem to know any illusion or invisibility spells. Rather, he floated in front of me, trying to use my body to block him. I shifted Jasmine in my arms, trying to make my position look more natural. I heard a familiar voice yelling at me, taunting me.

"Take her somewhere safe," I instructed Nigel. "I'll try and distract them."

I handed Jasmine off to Nigel, both seeming displeased with the arrangements. I turned around in the air and heard Jasmine muttering a threat to Nigel about where he should keep his hands. I dropped a few feet in surprise, knowing that if I was human right now, I would have a deep blush on my face. I recovered and scanned the rooftops for my nemesis, Huntsgirl.

There she was, right below me. The Huntsman stood behind her, arms crossed behind his back like a political figure. I didn't see his spear on him, and for that matter, Huntsgirl was lacking hers as well. I was starting to get suspicious of this, but I had to distract them from Nigel and Jasmine. Nigel could probably hold his own against the Huntsclan, but Jasmine would be completely defenseless. Even if she was in Nix form, she wouldn't be able to tell friend from foe. Huh, I wonder what happens when you get ten or twenty Nix during the full moon and put them in the same room. It wouldn't be pretty at the least.

"What are you two doing here?" I called out. "The two of you can't hit the broad side of a barn."

Huntsgirl said nothing, just motioning for me to come closer to fight. Well, at the very least I can humor her. I tucked my wings in and fell into a nose dive. The rooftop came closer and closer, and I caught surprise on the two hunter's faces before I flared my wings, breaking my fall. I landed on the roof, far enough to escape, but close enough to fight.

The Huntsman turned around and walked away, hands still clasped together. He stepped onto the fire escape and fell out of sight. Now it was just me and her. Huntsgirl came at me and faked a left. Her fist connected solidly with my face, turning my head with its force. She took the gap in my guard and hit me again, just behind my left ear. I fell too my knees as my body screamed in pain. It felt like I hit my funny bone a thousand times over, and then multiplied it by a million. Needless to say, it hurt.

Huntsgirl crouched in front of me, bringing our faces level to each other. I could tell she was smiling through her mask. I swung my tail at her, hitting her ankles. She fell like a rock, hitting her head as she went. There was a loud crack and I winced. I flitted my gaze between the injured hunter and where I had last seen the Huntsman, who didn't seem to be making an appearance.

I made a snap decision, one I would probably regret. But first, I would see who Huntsgirl actually was. I lightly stepped over to her, unsure if she was unconscious. I lifted her gently. Her head lolled back, and when I supported it, my hand was stained a darker shade of red. She did hit her head pretty hard after all. I lifted the mask off her face, careful not to scratch her with my claws. The hood fell back, and onto the roof. I nearly dropped her in shock.

Rose; it was Rose. My beloved Rose was Huntsgirl, my worst enemy. I felt my knees buckle and I fell to the concrete, scraping my legs as I went down. Everything became disjointed, and the world slipped out form under me. It was falling unconscious, except I was awake to see this nightmare. I pulled Rose close to me and cried softly. I turned my head away so as not to spill any tears on her.

A radio came on from the floor underneath me and I heard someone say "Any horror element is as psychological as special effects." Yeah, this was horror. It was shredding my mind, worse than any movie ever could.

I held my head in my hands. My life was falling apart before my eyes, coming apart even as I tried to put it back together. This, I realized, is probably what an addict feels like. No one would come near me, as they were unsure of how to react. Gramps was always distant, but has become more so lately. Fu was torn between following his friend and comforting me, something that was never his strong suit. He settled for playing poker by himself. Jasmine and Nigel didn't know me very well, and they settled for a pat on the back, some murmured thanks and a sorry before heading home.

Mom was out of the question. She never really knew much about the magical world, and I'd rather it stay that way. I didn't have to drag her into this. Dad knew absolutely _nothing_ about our secret. He married into a family of flying lizards, and Mom had kept it 'hush hush' for years. No need to change it now. And Hayley… if this got violent, I didn't want her to be here. I don't know what the Huntsclan might do, especially to a dragon if given the chance.

I looked at Rose, who was lying on the couch. _She truly was a rose,_ I thought bitterly. _So beautiful but so dangerous._ How was I going to explain this to her? Was I going to lie, or tell the truth? If I chose to lie, then how would I have found her? I bit my lip as she stirred. I suppose I'd have to wing it in the end.

Author's Note: Did an edit on this, sorry for the mistakes. I'm having an internal debate on who I should kill off. I've got one person in mind, maybe two. Have any ideas?


	6. Secrets

Disclaimer: I do not own American Dragon: Jake Long and I am not Mr. Rogers, nor do I own Coldplay or their song, The Scientist. (Good song, by the way.)

Author's Note: Of course I will continue it Lone Wolf. I'm not the kind to abandon a story once I post it. It's just that I usually write everything out beforehand, and this was originally a one shot. Well, don't worry about the gore; it should be here next chapter. Sorry about drawing it out, but I needed to get some things set before I could get the killing started. Okay, one last thing before you start reading: Rotwood is not the enemy here. I doubt he'll appear again, but he is not the enemy.

Rose stirred but didn't wake. I licked my lips, unsure of how to do this. I figured that I should let her sleep, even if it was killing me. She'd been hurt and I hadn't, so logically, she would need rest. Hopefully she didn't have a concussion. I winced at the thought of explaining to her parents why she was in a coma or worse. I heard grumbling from Fu Dog and he came out. He took one look at me and his features softened.

"There's no reason to cry kid," he said awkwardly. I touched a hand to my face, surprised to find it wet. "You know, I heard some guy say this before: 'I dream of a better tomorrow, where chickens can cross the road and not be questioned about their motives.' Right now, I find something similar, but rather than chickens, that people can finally get along. I mean, the world hasn't actually changed, just people's perception of it." I smiled; it wasn't often that Fu got philosophical, but when he did, he was rather wise.

"Thanks Fu. What I want is to find a way to tell Rose the truth without being gutted." I winced at the end, a rather vivid scene playing out in my head.

"If you do that, could you do it out of the shop? Your grandfather won't be happy to hear the fight." I nodded, but Fu was looking at Rose. "I haven't seen her a lot, but the few times I have, she's always seemed like a nice girl. Except, you know, when she was trying to kill you. But my point is that she seems like a good person deep down in there, and I think you can bring that out in her. Just be gentle with her, alright?" Fu Dog walked back to his game, calling back to me as he went. "I'm going to put the radio on; it's too quiet in this place."

Something seemed off about that. I couldn't quite place what was wrong, but I didn't get a chance to wonder as the radio clicked on, static clearing out to the music.

_"Come up to meet you, tell you I'm sorry. You don't know how lovely you are. I had to find you, tell you I need you; tell you I set you apart. Tell me your secrets, and ask me your questions. Oh let's go back to the start. Running in circles, coming up tails, heads on a science apart."_

The music, although sad, was soothing. It made me think of the situation between Rose and I. I really did like her, no, _loved_ her; I just couldn't work up the nerve to tell her. I didn't want to get her involved in my dragon duties, and then when the magical community was exposed, I kept my secret to protect her. True, I avoided her, but that was hard for me. Every second I saw her face it hurt, and I just wanted to tell her everything.

"_I was just guessing at numbers and figures, pulling the puzzles apart, questions of science, science and progress. Do not speak as loud as my heart and tell me you love me, come back and haunt me. Oh and I rush to the start; running in circles, chasing our tails, coming back as we are."_

How would she react to hearing what I was? I already knew she was Huntsgirl, and I hadn't tried to kill her or anything. And it was pretty clear that I wasn't keeping her captive or anything. And I wasn't going to hurt her, of course. Not even when I was the American Dragon and she was Huntsgirl. Well, except when I tripped her and this whole thing started, but that was purely by accident. I stood up and checked the cloth ob her head. It was blood soaked, but the wound had stopped bleeding.

"_Nobody said it was easy; oh it's such a shame for us to part. Nobody said it was easy; no one ever said it would be so hard; I'm going back to the start."_

The singer started drawing out some long an 'oh' as Rose's eyes opened. I stepped back in surprise, still holding the rag. Rose shot up and leaned back, one hand held to the back of her head. She looked at the blood in surprise, and I held my hands in a calming gesture.

"It's all right Rose, you were bleeding, but it stopped. See?" I held up the bloody cloth as proof. "I don't think you have a concussion, but I'm not entirely sure. You should lie down and rest, alright?"

"Where did you find me?" she asked. Her voice was tired and drawn out, not something I'd expected.

"We were fighting," I answered.

I heard the song repeat itself and made a mental note to smack Fu next time I saw him; he probably took one of his CD's and set the song to repeat.

"We were?" Rose asked in surprise. "I don't remember that." Her voice faltered near the end, probably beginning to realize just what I meant.

"Yeah, we were," I repeated softly. "I've been keeping a big secret from you, but you've been keeping one from me too. I'm the American Dragon, and you're Huntsgirl. How ironic it is that we're friends but we're also enemies. What's that saying? 'With friends like these, who needs enemies'?"

I knew I was rambling, but it was too help Rose get over the implications of what she had just learned. She stared in shock, seeing without really seeing. I absently noticed that her hair was curling at the ends, especially around her shoulders. Her voice drew me out of my reverie.

"So… how long did you know?" She seemed to be somewhere between fear and anger.

"Just after you fell unconscious." I bit my tongue, realizing what I said. "It was an accident, I swear-"

"It's alright," she said, voice soft. "I've been thinking for a while. The Huntsclan always told me that magical creatures were evil. I have seen some that are evil, and others that were good. More often, I've seen those that were scared. And I've seen more human evil as of late, and it scares me more than any magical creature has." Rose lifted her arm, her birthmark a clear scarlet against her pale skin. "What if the Huntsclan weren't meant to hunt? What if we were meant to protect instead of destroy?"

I looked at Rose with newfound respect. I always knew that she was the smartest person I've ever known, smarter than some of the teachers at school. How, exactly, we came t o be friends, I would never know, but one thing I knew was that Rose never doubted herself, or what she believed in. But here she was, recognizing that what she had been doing was wrong.

"It's okay Rose. I know that not all people are good, but some magical creatures aren't either."

"Like the Nix that attacked the school?"

"Well," I said, drawing the word out, "not exactly. Nix aren't actually evil; it's more or less instinct than anything else that drives them. Really strong instincts. And when they're human, they aren't so bad." Rose nodded slowly, absorbing this like she did with all other knowledge.

"So they usually lock themselves indoors or something so they don't attack people?"

"I think so, I haven't actually asked." I was about to continue when the shop door was slammed open, the bell tinkling ominously. I leapt up, nearly tripping myself, but stood with my fists up. I blinked in shock when I saw the intruder. "Nigel?"

He stood in front of me, blood spattered on his clothes. That was the first thing that set me off. Second were his eyes, which looked everywhere, searching for an escape route and any threats that may come his way. I recognized the look all too well. Last was that his clothes were disheveled, dirty and ripped open in several spots. He came forward a step, holding his hands out and grasping my shoulders.

"They found us Jake. They attacked, they're holding Jasmine hostage. They're going to hurt her." Sounded like he was scared for her; he probably liked her a _lot_ or was extremely afraid of what would happen if she got hurt.

"Who?"

"The Huntsclan."


	7. Her Trial

Disclaimer: I do not own American Dragon: Jake Long and I'm not Sarah Good or William Shakespeare. I also do not own _Hamlet_.

Author's Note: Kudos to tuxer, thank you for the idea! I had never thought of showing an execution, and now I can give you some of the gore I'd been waiting to write! I originally had something else written, but I took it out. I might use it in a later chapter.

Warning: Character death and detailed gore

"You know, I've never realized how long it takes to get to Central Park," Nigel commented. I glared at him but acknowledged the point. If we didn't hurry up, we might not make it in time.

"Have any better ideas?" I asked.

"Actually, yeah I do. Why don't you-"

"I'm not sure I want to hear the rest of that sentence," Rose interrupted. I smiled at her as she continued. "Jake probably isn't strong enough to carry both of us. Right Jake?" she asked. I have to credit Rose on that; she knows just what buttons to push.

"Come on," I muttered, pulling the both of them into an empty alleyway. I transformed into my dragon self and pulled Rose onto my back, dangling Nigel from my claws. "Let's see how fast we can go now," I taunted.

I face planted into the ground, changing as I slid. "Never again," I spat out. "Never. Again." We started losing altitude as we neared the park, I realized that maybe, just _maybe_, I can't carry Rose and Nigel at the same time. "What have you been eating Nigel?"

"Me?" He looked horrified, and I almost laughed. "Maybe you should ask your girlfriend."

"Shush. Be quiet," Rose hissed at us.

I had no idea how, but we hadn't been noticed during the crash landing. Looking where Rose was, I understood why. The trial had started, and it wasn't in Jasmine's favor. A crowd stood in front of the makeshift stage, where several Huntsclan members kept their hostage from moving around too much. Jasmine was handcuffed to a wooden post, making me think of Joan of Arc. I swallowed nervously- that was a bad analogy. Two of the Huntsclan stood at her side, while another, off to the left, stood facing the crowd. He held a notebook in his hand as he read off Jasmine's 'crimes'.

"Convicted of being a magical creature, attacking several teachers, destroying public and private property, and terrorizing students." The 'judge' lowered the notebook to look at Jasmine. "How do you plead?" Jasmine glared at him in response.

"I am not guilty of all but one of the charges. I have been falsely accused."

One of the Huntsmen at her sides jabbed her in the side with his elbow before whispering something to her. The 'judge' ignored this and continued on like Jasmine hadn't answered.

"Will the first witness rise and come forth," the judge called. A student came out of the crowd before standing opposite the judge. He was too far for me to see clearly without using my dragon powers. "What is your name?"

"Brad Morton."

I narrowed my eyes at him before relaxing. It was obvious that he was nervous, and was probably threatened to testify against Jasmine. It wasn't unheard of, but that was just what went around the rumor mill. If it was true, the false and threatened witnesses would never admit to it.

"While you were in school, what happened in the nurse's office?"

"I was waiting in the entry room with the other students– the nurse has two rooms, one where the students wait, and another where they are actually checked out, if you know what I mean." A waiting and an exam room was what he meant. "Jasmine went into the second room after someone else came out. Jasmine was the third to go in, and I was to go next. A few minutes passed before I heard yelling from the second room, and then she came out. But as a monster; her skin was green, her eyes red. She looked something like Medusa, except without the snake-hair. She glared at me before slithering? Yeah, slithering, I guess, out of the room and into the halls. More people started screaming when they saw her."

The Huntsman nodded, seemingly satisfied with the statement. He waved Brad off the stage and called up the next person.

"Name," he demanded.

"Sigmund Brock."

"What happened in the nurse's office?"

This was getting boring now, but I didn't feel the need to parade around as a dragon. Nor did I believe that I could stop the Huntsmen, rescue Jasmine and get away from a potential mob without killing myself or putting Rose and Nigel in danger. Rose could handle herself, but she was still Huntsgirl; they would expect her to fight against me, not with me. Plus Nigel didn't seem to know any spells that would help in a fight. So I stayed where I was, droning through the trial.

"…and she went out of the door; I have to tell you, it was amazing. And it proves that Brockium does work." The Huntsman looked at him interestedly.

"We'll have to go over your notes later," he noted. "Next witness, please." Brock got off the stage, seeming slightly spaced out as he went. "Name."

I'm ashamed to say I drifted off at that point. Really it was dully repetitive; a witness would come up, state their name when prompted, be asked the same question, answer, and then walk off stage. I never realized how boring a trial could be before now. After what felt like the hundredth witness, but was likely the tenth, Rose nudged me with her shoulder.

"Wha?" She gave me a disapproving look before pointedly looking back at the stage. I followed her gaze and felt a chill go up my spine. "Are they really going to do that?"

"Yes," Rose answered softly.

I took a quick look around, finding that Nigel had disappeared. Another nudge from Rose drew my gaze back to the grotesque trial. _'What is this, the French Revolution?'_ I was silently pleased for a moment as I made that connection, but also disgusted. One of the Huntsmen had pulled out a sword, and was readying to execute Jasmine.

The sword itself was not a thing of beauty, nor was it rather disturbing. Polished steel with a grey wrapped hilt, it was nothing more than a simple tool. The sword was largely unadorned, as though the maker had gone nothing beyond the bare necessities to fashion the weapon. It was both beautiful and terrible. The Huntsman raised his arm, ready to strike. I found myself unable to look away, and the sword came down.

If I hadn't seen the decapitation itself, I would have said it was anticlimactic. There was a spray of blood as her head was severed from her body, pushing the head away from the neck. The blood washed over the former body and the Huntsman's, not that he seemed very displeased or upset over the new makeover.

The head stopped before it fell off the stage, stopping upright so it appeared that the decapitated head was staring out at the crowd, looking for the one that condemned her. What could be seen of the eyes was glazed over, having a glassy look that I was too familiar with of late. Jasmine's dark hair was fanned out, resembling a dark curtain that lay behind her.

The crowd murmured and dispersed; many were taking last looks at the corpse as they left. Some looked green as they left, nauseous, no doubt. The executioner walked over to the head and picked it up, regarding the former girl. His next words surprised me.

"To be, or not to be-that is the question: Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune or to take arms against a sea of troubles and by opposing end them. To die, to sleep- no more-and by a sleep to say we end the heartache, and the thousand natural shocks that flesh is heir to. 'Tis a consummation devoutly to be wished. To die, to sleep- to sleep-perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub, for in that sleep of death what dreams may come when we have shuffled off this mortal coil, must give us pause.

"There's the respect that makes calamity of so long life. For who would bear the whips and scorns of time, th' oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely the pangs of despised love, the law's delay, the insolence of office, and the spurns that patient merit of th' unworthy takes, when he himself might his quietus make with a bare bodkin? Who would fardels bear, to grunt and sweat under a weary life, but that the dread of something after death, the undiscovered country, from whose bourn no traveler returns, puzzles the will, and makes us rather bear those ills we have than fly to others that we know not of?

"Thus conscience does make cowards of us all, and thus the native hue of resolution is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought, and enterprise of great pitch and moment with this regard their currents turn awry and lose the name of action. - Soft you now, the fair Ophelia! - Nymph, in thy orisons be all my sins remembered."

The Huntsman sighed and knelt by Jasmine's body. Whatever he was doing, I couldn't see as his back blocked my view. He stood, looked around, and left; sure that no one had seen him. After a few moments, Rose and I made our way over to the stage, climbing up the simple stairs. Both of us kept our distance, and I felt Rose's hand creep into mine. I held it and squeezed, needing reassurance. The Huntsman had released the bonds holding Jasmine, laying her against the bloody poll that she had been bound to. Cradled in her arms was her head, the lids closed with respect. If it weren't for the fact that she had been decapitated, and her head in her arms, Jasmine could have been sleeping.

I closed my eyes tightly, trying to stop the tears that threatened to fall. When I opened them again, I saw Nigel kneeling next to Jasmine, holding her in his arms. He was careful not to disturb her, and I heard the low keening of his cries. I gripped Rose's hand even tighter, sure that her hand was numb by now. I wasn't sure how, but this whole situation had taken on a whole new meaning.

Author's Note: I had been deliberating if I should have killed Jasmine by beheading or by burning. Originally, I went with beheading, became unsatisfied, cut it out and wrote her death by burning. Then at the last moment, I became unsatisfied and went back to the original execution and extended it, going from maybe six or seven lines to a page and a quarter. Amazing. Let me know your thoughts; I decided to kill off either Jasmine or Nigel, and decided that Nigel has potential. On another note,  
I'm sorry for the lack of line breakers. The site keeps deleting mine and I have no clue why. I don't think there's much I can do right now.


	8. His Execution

Disclaimer: I do not own American Dragon: Jake Long and I am not Edgar Allen Poe.

Author's Note: I'm almost sorry to do this to Nigel. But I need someone to have snapped, and I can't do it to Rose. I did it to her last time, and wouldn't be fair this time around. This isn't my favorite chapter, so I want to end this soon before I make a huge mistake.

**Warning: Character death (again), not so much gore**

Nigel held onto Rose like she was a life preserver and he was drowning. It made me slightly uncomfortable, but I understood why he was like this. He was hurting and needed reassurance. So I awkwardly stood to the side while Rose talked to him in hushed tones, doing her best to heal his broken heart. I looked up at the sky, which had turned gray with the threat of a storm. The buildings had darkened as the sun was covered, leaving the city in a pseudo-twilight. I let my breath escape my throat, not quite a sigh or a cough.

Rose helped Nigel up and he shuddered, making me go over to him to see if he was fine. In short, he looked like he had been mugged. His face was pale and tear streaked, clothes dirty and bloodstained. His face was off, not quite completing the picture. It was set, almost blank like a mask. His voice was clipped, making me think that he wasn't fine, At least not yet.

"The boundaries which divide Life and Death are at best shadowy and vague. Who shall say where the one ends, and where the other begins?" Nigel laughed, and I felt rain fall on my head. I looked up as the rain continued to fall, not deterring Nigel in the least. "They say what comes around, goes around. We should bring this back around to them, don't you think?" Concern must have flashed across my face because Nigel shrugged me off, kneeling to pick up Jasmine's body. "I'll bury her, like she deserves. I'll be back around later."

Nigel walked off, the lopsided cadaver throwing off his gait slightly. Rose and I exchanged looks and the rain fell harder, soaking our clothes. Rose stepped forward, but I put a hand on her shoulder and looked at her face. She must have understood, because she hung back, looking after Nigel.

I was soaking the couch, but at the moment, I didn't care. Rose and I returned to the shop, leaving Nigel to his own devices. Fu Dog greeted us with two mugs of hot chocolate, correctly guessing that we had been in the rain. He didn't say anything other than a brief explanation that he had to take an important call before we left and forgot about the CD. I nodded, took a mug and led Rose over to the couch. Fu Dog wisely didn't say anything and retreated somewhere further inside.

I held the mug in my hands, letting the warmth seep into me. It wasn't enough; I still felt cold inside. All I wanted to do was sit there forever; I thought I had seen the war, but the battle had truly just begun. With nothing better to do, I tasted the drink. It had a minty aftertaste, courtesy of Fu. I gripped the mug tighter as images of the execution sprang up in my mind.

The door opening snapped me out of my thoughts before they could become destructive to my mentality. If it wasn't for the bell tinkling, I wouldn't have noticed someone come in at all. Nigel trudged in, dirt now staining his clothes as well. In one hand he held a spade, washed clean by the rain.

"You ready?" was all he asked. I downed the rest of my mint hot chocolate and felt it scald my throat.

"Yeah."

"How exactly are we going to do this? And how exactly did you find this place?" I asked.

"Rose helped. And we're going to go in there, guns a blazing. Any questions? No? Then let's go."

Nigel went inside and used a spell to light the entrance. This was the Huntsclan's base in New York, according to Nigel. The place looked like an office building with all of the lights turned off. Nigel seemed to know where he was going; he led the way through, heading down underground.

Rose seemed slightly alarmed at his demeanor. Honestly, I was too. I'd never been this direct when fighting any of the Huntsclan, except Rose. I wouldn't have dreamed of attacking them like this, never in a million years. Yet here I was, standing in the lions den. I pushed away my misgivings and followed Nigel without a word.

We found ourselves standing on a catwalk that overlooked a large hangar-like room. Crates were stacked against the walls and in lines, creating a complex labyrinth that several Huntsclan members walked through, checking the stock or something. I cast my gaze at to the right, where I spotted Brock talking with a Huntsclan member. It seemed like his position had been reversed; he was the one pleading now, growing frustrated with his companion.

I caught Nigel's and Rose's attention and pointed at Brock. Rose seemed to understand immediately; Nigel got the wrong message and pulled out his wand, mumbling one of his spells. The boxes that Brock was arguing about fell over with the sound of glass breaking. A blue smoky vapor rose up from the mashed crates, quickly obscuring the room. The smoke was acrid; it stung at my eyes and made my throat burn. I backtracked out of the hangar, Rose following behind. The halls were almost smoke free and let us recover for a moment. I rubbed my eyes and coughed, trying to clear the chemicals out. Rose wiped her face tiredly, like this entire ordeal had drained her.

"Where's Nigel?" We both looked back down the hall. Nigel came walking out, a big, maniacal grin on his face.

"You two go on ahead; I've got this taken care of." When we didn't move, Nigel raised his wand. "Alright, then I'll make you go."

He used a spell and lifted Rose up into the air, flinging her down the hall before I could react. Without thinking, I tackled Nigel before he could use the spell on me. He made a hissing noise when we hit the ground. My blood ran cold; warmth spread all over my stomach. I got off of Nigel and saw the blood. I made a big mistake in tackling him. Someone hit him with a knife or a sword, which was sticking out of his back. When I tackled him, the blade slid all the way through his body and came out the other side, making Nigel's blood splash onto my front.

I bit my lip and helped Nigel up. I transformed and lifted the wizard gingerly, afraid to hurt him more than I already did. I ran down the hall, the walls to close together for me to fly. I didn't see Rose at all, inside or outside the building. I stood on the steps leading to the main doors, looking around. The rain had driven all but the hardiest people inside, but I didn't see anyone out here.

Nigel tugged on my arm. He had a stupid grin on his face and I felt anger bubble up at him. He had put Rose and me in danger so he could get his revenge. I opened my mouth to yell something, _anything_ at him, but he beat me to the punch again.

"I know you're pretty angry," he said. "But this had to be done. Brock's magic juice had to be destroyed." _'Magic juice?'_ "I learned from a friend that the Huntsclan 'convinced' Brock to give it to them and they were storing it here. But at least now I won't hurt anymore." Nigel closed his eyes and exhaled. His body seemed to deflate slightly, like a balloon. "I know I'm not going to make it," he lamented. "But I can tell you this: there's a way you can stop this from happening again. Alright?"

Nigel let out one last shuddering breath and died. He fell slightly limp, and I ground my teeth in frustration. I looked back into the doors with hatred, ten back at the now-dead wizard. I made up my mind and flew back to the park, looking for the grave Nigel had dug earlier.


	9. Uchrono Hourglass

Disclaimer: I do not own American Dragon: Jake Long and I do not own _A Stranger in a Strange Land_, by Robert Heinlein.

Author's Note: Just letting you know that I'm borrowing some stuff from the series: the transformation potion and some of Jake's lines from 'Shapeshifter' and an hourglass from 'Hero of the Hourglass'. Let's go.

"Time travel? Are you sure Jake?"

"Yes, that's what he said." I was lying through my teeth, but it wasn't like I had a choice. Well, he _did_ imply it at the very least. "So, is there any way to travel through time?"

"Of course!" Fu looked indignant at this question of its capability. "I went back in time before; I had to be at my great-grandfather's wedding. That's a story for another time." The Shar-Pei's face grew somber. "If there is a next time."

"Trust me Fu. This is the way it's got to be." I lay my hand on his shoulder. "I messed things up, and now I've got to fix it." Fu seemed to be mulling things over, and relented with a sigh.

"All right kid. What are you going to need?"

"A way to disguise myself and a way to go back in time."

"Groucho glasses won't cover it?" Fu uncharacteristically giggled at the idea and pulled a pair of the glasses out of his skin. "You sure you don't want to use these? No? Well, I can make you a transformation potion, but you won't be able to use any of your dragon powers. As for the time travel, you need the Uchrono Hourglass. Just set it to the day and year you want to go back to, turn the hourglass over and bam! You're back in time."

"Alright, well, where is it?"

"Right now? With some goblin that I know. I'll call in a favor and have him bring it here for you. Just go out and relax for a little while. If all goes well, you should be out of here in half an hour." I rolled my eyes, knowing that wouldn't happen.

"Yeah, and with my luck, the Hourglass will be gone, or someone will be trying to kill me. Oh, and what exactly is that potion made of."

"You don't want to know."

Amazingly, the whole thing went without a hitch. Of course, by the time Fu handed me the potion, I was suspicious of something going wrong. It sounds paranoid, I know, but when you're the American Dragon, something always goes wrong. I looked down at the potion, which Fu handed to me in a mug. It was robin's egg blue, but smelled like a giant's toe jam. I made a face at it and Fu noticed.

"What? Did it insult your mother? Drink up already, we don't have all day." I grimaced into the cup and downed it. The thing tasted worse than it smelled, if that were possible. It faintly reminded me of the toilet, a whole can of worms I didn't want to get into.

"Oh, Fu that junk is nasty! Uh, I'm gonna totally ralph!"

I held my stomach as an odd smoke came out around me. It covered me so well I couldn't se my hand in front of my face. When it cleared, which was rather quickly, I was a foot shorter than normal. Fu pulled out a mirror, I didn't want to know where from, and held it front of me. I was a carbon-copy of my dog.

"Don't forget Jake, you can't use any of your dragon powers while the potion is active. Also, the transformations become harder to control the more you use them." He then handed me a medallion. "This is the Uchrono Hourglass. Don't play with it."

The black string was connected to a blue elliptical pod that had a diagonal hairline crack down its side. The pod opened and revealed a small hourglass with pink sand inside, with two prongs on either side of it. Each prong was marked with Roman numerals, which I shifted until they were on the correct date.

"Fu… if this goes well, we'll never see each other again. So, I guess this is goodbye."

I gave the dog a short hug, surprising him, and flipped the hourglass, careful to keep Fu out of its range. The world twisted around me, coalescing into one point before reversing track and restoring itself to normal. I shook my head and looked around. Everything looked the same; I was still in Gramp's shop. Then Fu Dog came into the shop, a wad of money in his paws. He looked at me and I glanced down at myself. Still looked like Fu Dog.

"You from the future?" I nodded, unsure how he knew. "What's the password?" _'Password? Fu didn't mention any password!'_

"Uh… 'My dear, I used to think I was serving humanity... and I pleasured in the thought. Then I discovered that humanity does not want to be served; on the contrary it resents any attempt to serve it?'"

"Go right ahead. Just go. I don't want to know why you're here, but I hope I– we –didn't do something."

A few minutes later and I was on a power line. Not the smartest place to be unless you're a bird, which I transformed myself into. Thankfully, parrots weren't too out of place in New York. I waited for my earlier self to fall in the alleyway, thinking of what I could say. I spotted Trixie and Spud with their skateboards, then myself falling from the rooftops above. Only now could I appreciate that I didn't hit any fire escapes on my way down.

My past self fell next to my friends, who were startled by my appearance. I didn't listen in on their conversation, but did hear Spud mention lasagna and Trixie's reprimand. They moved my past dragon self onto their skateboards and began rolling away. I followed with my bird wings.

Again, I perched upon the power lines and watched as Rotwood was presented with a dragon, proof of the magical world. If I was my human or dragon self, I would have ground my teeth in frustration. Birds can't move their jaws in sideways motion very well, so I had to settle for clacking my beak and fantasizing gouging his eyes out. If I hadn't been so angry, I probably would have wondered what happened to my sanity, but there you have it. I noticed Trixie saying something about the broken vase, the one we were trying to raise money for. They seemed to have forgotten about me.

"A friend in need is a friend indeed," I croaked out. Spud looked up at me, catching Trixie by the shoulder.

"What?"

"Look," Spud said, pointing up at me.

"A friend in need is a friend indeed," I repeated. I cocked my head to the side, trying to make myself seem more bird-like.

"We forgot about Jake!" Trixie nearly yelled, and the two rushed off to my house.

If I could, I would have been grinning. Instead, I settled for flying after them. The two were surprisingly fast on their skateboards, and it took a lot of my energy to keep up I stopped outside the brownstone, just high enough to peek through the window into my room. The window was closed, but the blinds open, so I could see Hayley talking to my friends as they looked around for me. Hayley left and they saw the pictures on the computer. I could practically see the realization dawn upon their faces and I let out a throaty chuckle. I was caught by surprise when the two rushed back out of the house and skated to Rotwood's.

A few minutes later, they were talking to Rotwood, who rebuffed them and drove his car to Fumshteiken University, the cage attached. Trixie and Spud followed, and I spared myself the effort by clinging to the top of the cage. The wind buffeted me, but I managed to keep a tight grip.

I could feel myself fading as Rotwood began talking to the scientists. I had flown off into a tree so I wouldn't be spotted. I felt weaker when I flew, each beat of my wings taking more effort than the last. Trixie and Spud talked to my dragon self and I grew more transparent with each word. I felt relieved more than anything, but I felt some sadness; I wouldn't exist anymore. But compared to the alternative, non-existence was a good price.

I let out a soft sigh as my feather turned invisible. I fell off the branch, head first towards the ground. I had grown insubstantial enough to be incapable of gripping the tree bark. I twisted my head up at Rotwood just as he grew frustrated, his plan failed. I laughed throatily one last time before I disappeared entirely.

Author's Note: This has been a good story, really. It's the best way it could have gone out, considering how else it could have gone. True, I wanted more gore, but there's a thin line between killing with reason and blindly slaughtering. Even if that line gets fuzzy sometimes. I send thanks to all you readers, those that have reviewed, followed and favorite this story. Without you, this would never have happened. Special thanks to: Lone Wolf102, three 1996, Ugla, Dragon Lover, joniedinofreak, tigerwar, a Guest, naruto789987, jenny77739, and especially tuxer. You all have convinced me to expand this from a one-shot that bothered me at night, and inspired me with your words. I can't thank you all enough.


	10. Alternate

Disclaimer: I do not own American Dragon: Jake Long_._  
Author's Note: The alternate execution I briefly mentioned in chapter 7. Not necessary to read.  
**Warning: Someone is burned to death in this chapter. Not necessary to plot.**

Someone, likely the Huntsmen, had pulled out a tank of gasoline, which sat in front of Jasmine. I felt the blood drain from my face as I realized where this was going. My earlier alliteration to Joan of Arc now seemed rather ominous, and now I regretted the thought.

The accelerant was lifted up, over Jasmine's head, and dumped onto her body. She sputtered ad spat out the stray gas that had made its way into her mouth, eyes tightly shut. A match was struck, and carelessly thrown at the girl's feet. I quickly thought _'Isn't that stage made of wood?'_ before the gas caught. The fire quickly spread along the fuel, all over the stage and up along Jasmine's body. Pandemonium spread as the Huntsmen realized their mistake, and ran from the fire. While this would have been the perfect time to save Jasmine, even I could see it was too late.

Jasmine had guts, I would admit. Not once did she cry out, not even to her last breath. The fire had burned quickly, melting clothes to skin. An awful odor wafted through the air, a mix of flesh and rubber, as the rubber soles on Jasmine's shoes had melted. Her hair had burned out faster than her skin, leaving her with the appearance of being prematurely bald. Her eyes were tightly shut, and seemed to wither before the heat. Her skin blackened from its tan color, and the fire licked at her body before sputtering out. The fire had died as Jasmine did.

The stage was burnt, but didn't fall apart. The scene was calm, but had an eerie air to it, bringing a conclusion to an unfair and biased trail. Rose and I walked forward, stopping just before the edge of the stage. I was surprised that the supports hadn't given out. I debated climbing up to get Jasmine's body, but wasn't sure if I wanted to touch a dead cadaver. Sure, I had gotten to know her in the past few hours, but I didn't really think I should touch her body; it felt like it would defile her memory. Plus I didn't _know_ her like I knew my parents or Trixie and Spud.

I bit my lip; I had forgotten about them. Now they were probably worried about me and had no idea where I was. I took another look at Jasmine and noticed Nigel. He had climbed up the stage without me noticing, and judging by Rose's expression, without her help. He was on his knees, holding up Jasmine's lifeless body. He cried a low mourning for love lost. Rose's hand found mine, and I gripped her hand tightly. I wasn't sure how, but this whole situation had taken on a whole new meaning.


End file.
